Tortall's Autumns
by KrisEleven
Summary: A collection of one-shots from Goldenlake's Autumn Bingo. Tortall has seen thousands of golden days of autumn. Here are twelve.
1. The Baron of Trebond

A/N Another Goldenlake inspired set! This was a very fun Bingo challenge that they had posted on the forum a while back where a set of five words had to be brought together into a Pierce-inspired story. I chose to have mine all Tortall-inspired, and I ended up with ideas to all 12 sets of words that could be made from the classic Bingo arrangements on the board. Not all of the stories were posted on Goldenlake because life gets in the way too often, but I will post the whole set here as I get them finished over the next few weeks. Happy autumn, everyone!

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><p>Wind, Orange, Autumn, Red, Harvest aka <span>The Baron of Trebond<span>

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><p>There was a window in Trebond manor in a private, secluded stairwell where one could look out over the fields and village of the fiefdom. Rispah supposed there were more beautiful views; indeed, the Baron's chambers looked out over the hunting forests where traditional nobles spent idle time and the main hallway had a long view of the main road, better to keep watch for visiting people of import.<p>

Rispah hadn't even known about this corner of the manor until she went looking for her new husband and found him haunting his quiet stairwell, looking out over the fields in harvest and the homes of the people making their lives on Trebond land – _his _land.

Wind drafted through the cracks in the window coverings, and there was dust on the sill and in the corners of the stairs, but Rispah just gathered her shawl tighter against her shoulders and leaned back against the wall. Coram was framed in the window, surrounded by the reds and yellows and oranges of his fiefdom on the cusp of winter's beginning and she thought he had never looked more the Baron of this manor than he did standing there alone, his expression a mix of pride and paternal worry as he looked over those he was now responsible for.


	2. Long Road Home

Wind, Moon, Change, Loss, Travel aka Long Road Home

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><p>Each breath ended with a hitch as Arram struggled not to shiver in the cold northern wind. There had been no time to pack while running from Carthak, and the light shirts he owned were now torn and wearing down to threads through the rough treatment they'd been receiving as he made his way north from the port city in Southern Tyra, back to his family home in the north.<p>

He rubbed his arms vigorously, trying to work out the chill that was settling into his bones. The art of sleeping rough had never been a skill he had put much time into mastering and now, with Ozorne's threat of mage-sniffers still caught in his head amongst the madness of the past month, he was too frightened to call on his magic to light a fire. The thought of his friend filled him with anger, again, as he thought about his last days in what was irrevocably his _old life_, now.

Arram picked up the pack he had been trying to use as a pillow and stood up, wincing at the pain in his back and legs. The likelihood of sleeping had already been close to zero as he battled the cold and uncomfortable ground and the fear of the chase that was closing in behind him. Now, with the bitterness of anger and pain and betrayal that rose in his stomach and throat at the thought of his former best friend and what had happened between them, there was no chance he would find rest tonight.

The road beside the River Drell was well-used, though mostly during the summer months, when trade with the south was at its peak. Regardless, the road was wide and well-worn and easy enough to travel, even on a cold autumn night with only the moon to light the way. Arram walked and tried not to think of everything he had left behind in Carthak, or everything that had been lost – no, taken from him.

With only his thoughts for company, Arram started the last stretch of his travels home. One month ago, he had been one of the most powerful mages in the world, now he could not use his renowned magic even to light a fire. He had been the best friend of the Emperor of Carthak, who now had warrants for his arrest and had promised cold punishment if Arram was ever brought back to Carthak alive. He had been comfortable with his place in the world, and that had been shaken to pieces with one conversation with someone he had thought he'd known... He shook his head and began counting his steps on the road home.

Maybe there he would find who he was supposed to be, as everything he had made of himself crashed down around him.


	3. Times of Change

A/N This is the first piece that I wrote just for you (yes, you!), since it did not get finished in time for the Autumn Bingo challenge. I hope by now you have noticed that these stories are progressing in chronological order. If you haven't, feel free to have a brief moment of shame before you continue. That's enough. By the time we finish, we will be about five years beyond the end of Trickster's Queen. But for now, enjoy some George and the little ones!

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><p>Change, Duty, Autumn, Rivalry, Pumpkin aka <span>Times of Change<span>

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><p>"When is ma coming home?"<p>

George looked across the fields as he tried to think of a way to answer his daughter's question. Men and women of Pirate's Swoop were working, mostly in the distance, as Aly had led him on a wild game of make-believe chase from the harvesting corn into the pumpkin and squash delegated to the edge of the fields, where the ground became more rocky and wild. It wasn't the first time he had been asked this question by children missing their Ma – children sick in the middle of the night or who had just fallen off their horse or told their favourite hound would not be around to play anymore sometimes did not want their Da's arms and comfort, no matter how much they loved him. And the King's Champion could not always be there to dry tears, no matter how much she wanted to be.

George looked down at the wide hazel eyes hidden beneath hair he had clumsily tied back with cord after little, muddy hands had pushed it out of her eyes one too many times for it to be labelled 'clean' anymore and thought about his answer. He had sworn to himself never to lie to his children, never to treat them like they were not worthy of the truth just because they were too little and innocent and trusting to demand it, but how do you explain 'duty' to a five year old?

George scooped her up into his arms. She was heavier than the last time he had done this, he thought, though it couldn't have been too long in the past. Her arms still curled around his neck and her head still fell on his shoulder so he could feel her breath on his neck, but she felt more like a child than a baby, anymore. That would change, too, until she was too old for this comfort and moved away...

He soothed his own discomfort by rubbing her on the back and whispering a familiar promise in her ear.

"Your ma loves you more'n anythin' else in this life. She's not here as often as she wishes, but she's here as often as she can be and she will always find her way home to you, wherever you go. Don't fret, little Aly. Be proud that your ma's doing good work and keep an eye on the castle walls because her flag will fly sooner than you think and then she'll be home again."

"I love you, Da."

"Love you too, darlin' one."

"Da! Da! Can we keep it?"

Aly twisted in his arms at the sound of her brothers, and both regarded the muddy boys and their prize with the same hazel eyes. Between Alan and Thom, they had managed to carry over a good-sized pumpkin from the fields and were looking up at him expectantly.

"And what are you goin' to _do_ with a pumpkin, exactly?" he asked, trying to keep a smile off his face as the two boys looked at each other, caught off guard.

"Just _have_ it, 'cause it's _neat_!" Thom said finally. Alan looked up at George and nodded fervently. He lost his balance somewhere in that nod and dropped the pumpkin as he fell on his behind in the leaves and dirt. "_Alan,_" Thom scolded as the weight of the pumpkin pulled him over. He looked at his little brother with a scowl from his position draped over the pumpkin, the crown of his head in the dirt.

"Oops," Alan said, smiling up at them.

"Tell you what, lads," George said. "If you leave the pumpkin here, I will help you and Henry make a big pile of leaves to jump in."

Both boys shouted their joy.

"I'm going to jump ten feet in the air!"

"I'm going to jump _twenty!_"

"Yea, well, I'm going to jump threety!"

"You mean _thirty_, Alan!"

Aly wiggled from his arms to join in the celebration and the three children ran back towards the group of adults in the field to inform their stablehand what his next job was going to be.

George stood back as he watched. The innocence and simple joy they found now wouldn't last forever, he knew that.

But that was why he hurried to catch up. For right now he would play with his children and dry their tears and pick them up for as long as they allowed it, because George Cooper, the Lower City brat turned Rogue turned Baron, knew better than anyone that everything changed, eventually.

And so often it was for the better.


	4. The Making of a Poet

A/N This is supposed to take place whenever Kel had a crush on Neal. In Page? Not sure, but enjoy regardless!

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><p>Moon, Orange, Pie, Brown, Mature aka <span>The Making of a Poet<span>

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><p>"Your hair is brown like... like the darkest night; which is not brown at all, of course... no. Like... chocolate rich in... nutrients? What? Your hair is <em>shiny<em> like... fish. Oh, good gods help me here." The scratching of a quill on paper ended suddenly when said paper was crumbled and thrown to the floor. "Lady Katara, you shine in the light of the moon. You beauty shines through the ... night... lit by a moon. Okay, the repetition might not be needed... Your beauty shines through the light of the moon and your fragrance lights the night like a thousand oranges. Your eyes light up my life, like the beauty of a ... and nothing rhymes with oranges, does it? Not one single word. Why would we even _make_ a word that had nothing to rhyme with it? Is it _meant _to drive poets mad?"

"_Is_ he a poet now?"

"How are we to tell?"

"I think the general depressed state, rumpled clothes, and the giant splotch of ink on his face are signs supposed to warn us."

"He didn't have ink on his face _before _we agreed to sit at his dinner table. How were we to know to avoid him? Ouch! That apple is _hard_."

"Hush, Meren. Our poet is hard at work."

"Thank you, Cleon. As I was _saying_. Your beauty shines through the night –"

"Well, thank _you_, Neal. I didn't realise you felt that way – ouch! Those _do _hurt."

"Told you."

"YOUR BEAUTY SHINES IN ITS OWN MATURE LIGHT – "

"Isn't 'mature' another word for 'old'? Are you _supposed_ to call a woman old?"

"Owen does have a point, poet."

Neal put his head down on the table, dejected as the discussion about whether 'moranges' was a word, and if 'old' could ever be considered a compliment. "Am I destined to be alone?" he asked the table.

Kel smiled at him. "Eat your pie," she said, pushing the plate closer to him. She watched him as he pulled the plate closer and started eating through a dramatic sigh.


	5. Lady's Work

A/N Another new chapter that wasn't ready in time for Goldenlake. By the way, everyone should head over there. There is still the sign-ups for the Wishing Tree going on, where you make requests for stories and write stories for other in turn. It begins December 1st, so you'll want to hurry and sign-up so you get lovely holiday presents! I wasn't sure whether this took place before or after the previous scene, so I put it here. Some fun at Dunlath, anyone?

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><p>Wind, Scarves, Chill, Forest, Leaves aka <span>Lady's Work<span>

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><p>It grew cold early in the north. Maura ducked her head as she crossed the causeway from Castle Dunlath to the village, hiding already wind-chapped cheeks and lips from the cold wind that gained bitter strength blowing across the water of the Long Lake. When she was finally in the shelter the village's buildings provided, she pulled her hat off, allowing dull brown hair to fall and frame her face. Someone called out to her as she passed by and she stopped to wave, her smile lighting up her otherwise ordinary features. Her cheeks were bright red under her intelligent brown eyes and though she smiled and waved at everyone who stopped her, she hurried north along the road, stopping only when she couldn't escape conversation with a smile and obvious haste.<p>

Once she was beyond the village limits, she turned off the main road, following a game trail leading to the lake deep into the forests of Dunlath. The forest was soon to lose its leaves – they were already in their beautiful death-shrouds of yellows, oranges and reds – but for now they blocked the chilled wind and she was grateful for that shelter as well as the sight they provided her.

The pants she had taken to wearing in lieu of heavy skirts made climbing over raised roots and around the prickly needles and branches of the trees lining the path easier, and she was more adept at clamouring through the wilderness at seventeen than she had been even as a child, under her sister's restricting expectations.

Maura could hear sounds ahead of her before she saw the group she was seeking. A group of small children, most under ten, sat intermingled with ogre youngsters who had come from their families' farms to the north of the village. Three Stormwing females were in the clearing, one addressing two youths off to the side while the others led the group of sitting children in a game.

Stopping at the edge of the clearing, Maura smiled as she stared. Who would have thought even five years ago, when the barrier first fell, that this would ever be possible?

_It is not the same everywhere_, she thought_, but at least they have an example in Dunlath as to what the world can be, with everyone living together, regardless of what they were born... Tortall will be a more interesting place, surely._ Maura smiled. She had grown to love 'interesting'.

One of the Stormwings, Abhilash, looked up sharply when Maura shifted her weight.

"Well?" she called harshly, with the voice of a crow. "Are you ready to take them or not? We have other things to do then tend after a group of brats." She gently nudged a child towards his friends as she said this, holding her sharply edged wings out of his reach.

The children turned as a group to see the new arrival, and the excitement that followed took a while for Maura to calm, the Stormwings making their escape from the chatter and clothes-tugging while Maura was distracted; they hated being thanked for anything they did at the Fief, child-minding most of all.

"We are going back to the Castle for your reading lessons now!" Maura called out. There were some groans from the older children, but everyone was collected and the group started back down the path towards the village.

Maura dropped to her knees and tucked the trailing end of a scarf more securely into the coat of a young ogre. Rising, she took the hand of a human toddler and followed behind the group as two little females told their lady about all the adventures, real and imagined, they had gotten into that day with their Stormwing minders. Maura laughed at their tales and enjoyed the crisp air and crunching of the leaves under her feet.

Her late sister and nobles like her would no doubt be horrified to see her collecting a group of commoner and Immortal children instead of doing more 'dignified' work, but Maura was not the type of lady who agreed.

_This is the Tortall I want to see,_ she thought, looking down at the ogre and human friends she led. _This is the Tortall I'm working for. For everyone. _


	6. Nothing Like Home

A/N Moving forward in time again; this is set in Carthak before Trickster's Choice, immediately following Kalasin's marriage to Kaddar.

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><p>Scarves, Orange, Duty, Gold, Orchard aka <span>Nothing Like Home<span>

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><p>It was nothing like home.<p>

Kalasin shook her head and tried to enjoy her ride through the gardens, but the thought returned to her. It was _not_ like home.

Well, of course it wasn't. This time of year, Tortall's landscape would be vibrant with the reds, oranges and yellows of autumn's colours. Instead, they rode through the heat of gardens as stubbornly green as in the heart of summer, the air hot enough to feel heavy and constricting.

She adjusted the scarf that covered her hair, trying to allow the motion to bring a little airflow without utterly shocking the conservatives that had joined the Royal party in their country ride. Looking around at her veiled attendants, she felt a kinship. Her veil may have been gilded with gold, but the light fabric (like the heat, and the pomp, and all this dratted _green_) reminded her where she was.

Who would have thought scarves and a steadiness in seasons could cause her more homesickness than the rest of her adjustment to Carthak put together? She knew her duty to Tortall. But did it have to be so gods damned _hard_?

"They aren't the same as Tortall, of course, but our olive orchards are among the best in the world," Kaddar said.

"Of course, my lord husband," Kalasin replied and the silence stretched once again between them in the wake of her polite, appropriate, and utterly empty response.

He was right about one thing. It was _nothing_ like home.


	7. One Step Behind

A/N Let me begin this chapter by mentioning that Dom and I do not get along. LunaSphere once challenged me to write a 'Hidden Darkness' drabble for him, which I did. He made a few appearances in the Goldenlake SMACKDOWN, as well, but other than that we stay on the other side of the room from one another and mostly stare at our drinks and avoid eye contact. However, here he is again... I don't know about this. He makes it difficult. There is a good alliteration in here, though. :D

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><p>Leaves, Mature, Pumpkin, Friendship, Harvest aka <span>One Step Behind<span>

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><p>Dom found her, like he always did, working for the people of New Hope.<p>

_Her _people. Even if she was transferred tomorrow, the peoples' hearts would always belong to the Lady Knight; the Protector of the Small, as the children she rescued have all begun to call her, much to her embarrassment.

The furrow in the field he followed was filled with fallen leaves, blown in from the forests on the edges of the clearing. They crunched under his feet, announcing his approach.

She leant against her scythe as she wiped a hand across her forehead, looking back to watch him making his way across the recently shorn field towards her and she smiled. "Dom!" she called out, waving at him enthusiastically. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," he replied, grinning. He was one of the few to get so much from the always controlled Kel; it was an honour that he cherished. "I came to rescue you from your toils to attend to us wayward Own types, if you need it."

She laughed. "You think your company will be _less_ work?" she asked, teasingly, but still shook her head. "I need to get this strip done to the trees," she said. "The wheat is done, the pumpkins mature next week and we still have root vegetables to get in if we want to get through the winter without rations."

She bit the corner of her lip for a moment, her expression of worry, which made Dom laugh. "You pulled a full camp through two winters while at the height of the war with Scanra," he said. "You will get through this winter. I have utter faith in you." She looked away over the field and back. "Don't be embarrassed about it; you deserve to be commended by more than a lowly officer in the King's army. You made a miracle here, keeping everyone alive."

"I had a lot of help."

"Maybe. But they wouldn't have made it, if not for you being in command."

Both of them looked north, then, thinking of the rescue mission that turned into a nightmare.

"I never did thank you for coming after me."

"No, I think you just yelled at me and told us all how stupid we were. Rude, that."

She made a face at him and he laughed again.

"You don't need to thank me. Anyone who knows you would have fought for the chance to help."

She waved him away and got back to work, truly embarrassed by his praise. He wondered, briefly, why people often mentioned that she was hard to read. Everything about her seemed so clear to _him._

The wind was winter-cold from the north, but the sun still shone some summer warmth down on them, lighting up her face as she worked. Neal would make some comment if he saw his cousin staring like Dom knew he was, but...

He knew an entire company, the population of a northern fort and the majority of two years worth of new knights who loved this woman with the fierce, dedicated love reserved for the true leaders of their time. She had already done extraordinary things and she hadn't had her shield five years yet. She would be a legend to rival the Lioness or the Wildmage before she was done. Dom was ready to be one of the crowds willing to ride behind the enemy's lines to follow her, to be one of the many jumping to arms when she called and to ride where she rode, but he _wanted..._

Turning to walk back towards New Hope, Dom shook his head and laughed at himself.

"Dom!" she called after him.

The sun was in his eyes. He raised a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, but he still had to squint and she was just a silhouette against the sky.

"Thank you!"

He chuckled, letting the distance between them kill the sound before it reached her. She didn't yet understand that there was no need to thank him; he would follow her into the depths of Chaos if she asked it of him.

"You're welcome!" he called, instead.

Still a knight only five years with her shield, still unaware of the greatness she could achieve, and still carrying all the insults and doubts that were piled on her throughout her training, Kel wasn't ready to be a legend... yet. But Dom would stay close. There would be an army willing to follow her before too long. And just because he was going to be part of it, didn't mean he wanted to lose sight of her; or for her to lose sight of him. He would follow, but he would be just one step behind.

Dom didn't turn back as he walked, but he was aware the entire time that he walked _away _from her.

It felt unnatural.


	8. Changes

Forest, Brown, Rivalry, Red, Choice aka Changes

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><p>Autumn always meant change in the Copper Isles, as it did everywhere else. For the Dodeka family, this change came with their service to the Temaida family as surely as the winters would come.<p>

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><p>Ulasim crouched in the forest growth, his dark brown skin uncovered except a cloth around his hips. He was watching for the noble girl; she rode this way sometimes and his brothers said that Sarugani was the most beautiful girl in the world. He suspected it was his brothers trying to get him in trouble; he was supposed to be scaring away crows and they always tried to get their parents mad at him because he was the youngest, and their favourite.<p>

Her horse was going so fast, he barely had time to duck down so his shadow on the road didn't give him away. As if she would have seen it! Bent low over her horse's neck, she flew like the wind along the road, her black hair and red dress billowing behind her. Then, something spooked her mount and he stopped, shying sharply to the right and nearly throwing her.

Before he could think, Ulasim had jumped out of cover and was helping her calm her horse.

She smiled at him, her dark eyes staring into his and he gulped. She truly was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

It would be years before Ulasim realized her importance to the raka and their cause, but it didn't matter because she had already captured his heart in that instant.

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><p>Ochobu cursed her son by every god she knew other than the Trickster she left unnamed when he refused to come home to his family.<p>

"There are things that are more important, Mother," he told her.

More important than his dying father? More important than his daughter, growing up without her father while he tended someone elses' children?

She would not forgive him for abandoning them for a dying cause, not even if the Trickster took the island back and she danced on the graves of the luarin who tore her family apart.

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><p>Junai sat watching the road, her mind on anything but the view in front of her. When her father had asked her to watch over the little luarin girl with the red-gold hair, she had known she might be something special, but she hadn't realized there would be quite so many changes brought into her life.<p>

She had lived her entire life in the forests around Tanair, and now, just because Aly Homewood asked her to, she was willing to pack up and leave, go to the city she knew nothing about and become more than just another soldier in the fight for their home.

It was what she wanted. It was what she was terrified of.

She closed her eyes, and in the autumn wind, she chose.

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><p>Three generations of the Dodeka family would be dead before autumn, the next year. They died for what they believed in, for the world they had been willing to give everything to have.<p>

Ochobai, Ulasu, and Junim grew in the world their namesakes had died for.

And there was peace.


	9. Mindelan Gatherings

Chill, Pie, Argument, Autumn, Youth aka Mindelan Gatherings

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><p>Kel sat on the steps outside her family's home, hugging her arms around her waist to ward off the chill of the evening. It was the first time she had been home in nearly two years, and the last for many more, she thought, and while she loved and missed her family, she needed to <em>escape<em>. She was used to being the Lady Knight in New Hope, not the slightly embarrassing younger daughter in a household where she didn't feel like she quite fit.

"Are they arguing again?"

Kel looked up and smiled at her older brother. "It _is _a full Mindelan gathering," she informed him.

Anders put his plate down on the step and lowered himself beside her, holding his leg stiffly until he could lower himself to the step beside her. "Why do you think I escaped to the yard? You've been away too long, Kel. You didn't even bring a plate of dinner to hold you over." He picked up the plate and held it towards her as proof.

"How foolish of me," she said, her expression neutral, but a smile in her voice.

He nodded seriously. "I will share my pie with you if the battle continues much longer, but you must learn to bring your own provisions in future, Lady Knight."

They looked at each other for a moment before they both laughed softly.

"Papa! Aunt Kel!" Anders's youngest son was running up the wide stone steps that led to their seats, chased by younger cousins.

"Kel! Anders! Come back inside!" Oranie called from the door, her year-old daughter sleeping on her hip. "Hethens!" she said, laughing, as the children swarmed her. "Get Kel and Anders back inside."

Anders's pie was abandoned as he and Kel prepared to defend their position against the swarm of children. Oranie's laughter woke the toddler, who watched the scene wide-eyed and smiling in the brisk autumn afternoon.


	10. Hide and Seek

Travel, Orchard, Youth, Choice, Harvest aka Hide and Seek

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><p>"We are <em>not<em> on a vacation. You do realise that, right, Miri?"

"Like _you _are one to lecture _me_ on professionalism." Her voice drifted back to Evin through the rows of apple trees they were wandering through. The orchard was off the road their Rider groups were currently resting on, and seemed almost abandoned; the grass between the rows grew up to his knees in a thick autumn thicket that was more straw than anything, and the trees were so thick with branches laden with fruit, that it was impossible to see through each path.

Following her voice, Evin ducked under the branches of a tree, hearing some apples fall to the ground behind him as he disturbed their branches. He looked up and down the rows, but she was nowhere in sight.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied to the trees. "I am the epitome of professionalism." He smiled as her laugh echoed through the trees and he began to walk further down the row of trees to follow it. The voices of their troops at rest were fading behind him.

"I think Sergeant Dom might have something to say about that. And Commander Buri. And Lord Raoul. And the entire twenty-third Company, who, I have heard, still have a slight tinge of blue to their skin."

He turned and pushed between two over-burdened fruit trees, ducking his head to avoid getting hit in the face as he followed her voice through to another row. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. They're blue? You're talking nonsense now, woman."

He lifted his head as he pushed past the last branch and saw that he had found her. Her back was to him and she was up on her toes, turning an apple and twisting it upwards, snapping the fruit from its stem. Her other hand was curled around her back and she already held another apple there, with a bite taken from it; white flesh through its red skin. She laughed and he smiled because he had to, because her happiness was as contagious to him as always, because she was Miri and he was Evin and she could do anything – anything at all – and he would be happy to be there with her.

She turned to him, the apple in her hand. Her mouth was open, on the cusp of making some comment, but she stopped on seeing him there with her. Instead of speaking, her lips closed and she gave him a beaming smile. "I knew you'd find me, Evin," she said, and she offered him one of the apples in her hands, the one she had picked for him on tiptoes, because the apples closest to the ground weren't quite good enough.

When they were younger, it had always seemed like moving forward meant that he was giving up something precious with her, that it meant giving up their friendship in order to pursue the feelings he had, and he had never been willing to take the risk.

Now, well, now the choice was simple. He could take a step and kiss her or he could not.

He looked into those too-blue eyes and thought that wasn't a choice at all.

Both apples fell to the ground at their feet .


End file.
